


Hearing All Their Voices

by thisisnotanotebook



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Loki suffers, Post-Avengers, not a good fic for Loki sympathizers, pre-Dark World, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisnotanotebook/pseuds/thisisnotanotebook
Summary: Loki's stay in Asgard's dungeon is not as solitary as we've been led to believe. A vengeful AI in charge of his rehabilitation makes sure the prodigal prince is never lonely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty dark, and if you're looking for a fic which celebrates Loki as a sexy, loving prince, perhaps keep looking. that being said, maybe even going through the hell of recognizing his monstrous choices will eventually bring out something closer to humanity in him.

    Odin shifted uncomfortably at the throne. "Since I can't get through to you, boy," he growled guiltily, "your mother will decide your sentence. Are you ready, my Queen?" As the queen nodded and stood, Loki's breath caught in a barely audible sigh. He quickly reverted to nonchalance before the guards could notice.  
     Frigga's voice rang out clearly over the Hall, with no note of its usual gentleness. "People of this realm, stand witness," she declared, "Loki of Asgard has committed crimes against his realm and others. He is charged with murder, treason, warmongering, assembling a now enemy force to attack a neutral realm, and attempting to avoid arrest. His title, powers, and rank have been revoked. He will be held in the palace dungeons for as many years as the number of beings he has killed or injured. If he escapes and is recaptured, he will be delivered immediately to Thanos and/or the Chitauri government, who may do as they see fit with him. After Loki has served his sentence, he will work as Asgard's permanent Mage."  
    Loki's composure flickered for a milisecond, nothing more. "Is that all?" he smirked sarcastically. "Mother, you are adorable."  
    "I wasn't finished." The queen had never looked more imposing to Loki than right then. The room seemed to darken as she spoke the final sentence: "While you are imprisoned, you will be counseled by the Sigyn." She paused and turned away. "Guards, take him away." The guards did as they were told with gusto and force, so that Loki was not so much taken as dragged by the neck. What concerned him most, however, was not being yanked down endless flights of stairs nor the beatings the guards were sure to give him. At the forefront of Loki's thoughts were two questions: who was this Sigyn person and why his mother thought she was such a terrible punishment.  
…  
    Twenty-seven stood out boldly to Loki in the dungeons. When he tilted his head, he could just see it stamped above the entrance to his new home in clear, black print. Cell #27, it read. To get here, he and his coterie of guards had marched down twenty-seven crumbling stone steps, after weaving through twenty-seven corridors, down twenty-seven floors, to the deepest, darkest hell-hole possible—Cell #27. Twenty-seven also happened to be the number of lashes he’d gotten so far, courtesy of Captain Theoric. He pondered the universal significance of it while Theoric raised his arm for Twenty-eight.  
    The next lash came down with a resounding “Crack!” Loki winced involuntarily. Normally it wouldn’t have hurt so much; Theoric was only using a belt, but he was eighth in line and had a strong arm. Rivulets of blood ran down Loki’s back, staining his threadbare shirt. He shifted on his knees a little, and the two guards holding his arm and neck chains yanked him back down a little. His black, tangled hair swept the floor, picking up blood and dust.  
     Crack! Crack! Theoric was relentless. Loki barely stifled a very unprincely groan, which made his torturers smile. The fellow holding his arms pulled him up by the hair, leering. “Had enough, princess?” Crack!  
Loki’s pained breathing strained itself into a sarcastic grin. “I… I could do this all night… darling.” He giggled weakly as the guard blushed scarlet, then yelped when his hair was released and his face hit the floor. The guard hissed in frustration. “Captain! Maybe we can start on his face now.”         Somewhere behind him, Theoric must have nodded and pulled him back by the hair again. I really should cut it, he thought vaguely. Neck-chain guard cut his thoughts short with a stinging smack. Arm-chain guard joined in, nearly dislocating Loki’s jaw. By the time Theoric started acquainting the belt buckle with his eyes, Loki had lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2: Robot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki sees his opulent new home and meets his prison warden.

     He woke to a very bright white light. _Am I dead?_ he thought with concern. _Those brickbrained meat sacks can’t have hit that hard._ A throbbing wave of crippling pain assured him of his state with tactless abruptness. Guards be damned, he screamed. It came out garbled and much quieter than expected. However, it seemed to activate something, and the bright light got even brighter as a clear, female voice rang out with a tinny, inhuman robotic quality: “Good Morning, Prisoner 0000007727. Welcome To Cell #27.”

Confused and frustrated, Loki closed his eyes and screamed again. The voice ignored him and kept talking. “You Will Find Yourself Restrained.” At this, Loki’s eyes flew open and he frantically tried to sit up. “Restrained” was an understatement. Thick metal clamps trapped his wrists and ankles, and his torso was locked down immediately below the armpits and again at the hips. He groaned stressfully. As if it heard this, the voice replied, “Do Not Be Concerned. Your Body Is Being Healed By Reconstructive Nanogenes. Your Nutrition Is Provided Through An Intravenous Fluid Dispenser.” Sure enough, there was a clear tube sticking out of his arm, connected to the ceiling. Loki did not take much comfort from the disembodied voice’s honesty.

His next concern was addressed before he could voice it. “Clothes Will Be Provided When It Is Medically Safe For You To Stand.” He nodded and shivered, accepting for the moment his strange situation. Then a slew of questions came to him like darts. What’s happening? Who are you? Can you hear me? Why is everything white? What am I lying on? Where is Sigyn? He managed to ask them one at a time, but none too clearly.

“Whassap’ing?” “You Are Being Healed.”

“Kenyuyear’m?” “I Can Hear, Understand, And Respond To You.”

“Whys’ errythng whi?” “This Is My Default Interface. I Was Programmed To Make Your Cell Look This Way.”

“Whammeye lieng on?” “You Are On A Bed.”

“Hooreyu?” “I Am The Sentient Integrated Genetically-modified Yearly-updated Nanobot.” A bunch of black letters appeared on his bright light (the ceiling, he realized) which listed each word on a separate line. Read downwards, the capitalized first letters spelled, “S.I.G.Y.N.” Loki stared for a moment. The S.I.G.Y.N. He would be counseled by the “Sigyn”. This thing was his counselor.

The last thing Loki remembered for an indeterminable length of time was a rising sense of panic. Thoughts whipped around his mind in disordered flashes, and he struggled to sit up. _Help! Help! I can’t get away! This machine has got me! … Fool! No one will help you. They planned this. They want you to struggle! Those bastards! Those bastards!_ Then there was a cold pressure at his forearm, and Loki knew no more.

Two minutes went by, perhaps a year. There was nothing but blackness to see, and nothing but the occasional muted fuzziness in his extremities to feel. At some point, a different type of cold pressure poked into his other arm, and Loki fully opened his eyes. The blinding whiteness was expected now, but it was much wider than before. He blinked and adjusted to it. Upon stretching his limbs, he found the pain to be exponentially dulled down. Almost experimentally, he twitched his jaw. It was moveable. _Huh. That rules out a half-hour nap_. Sitting up was the next test. _Nope_ , he thought as he collided with the metal bar once more. _I must be the dangerous type_.

The S.I.G.Y.N. activated again, whirring cheerfully. “Good Morning, Prisoner 0000007727. Welcome To Cell #27.” Loki rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Yes, we’re past that now, darling. Mind if I sit up?” He strained at the metal bar while the S.I.G.Y.N. pondered. “Certainly Not,” it conceded. With a click and some more whirring, Loki’s bed slowly bent in half, with the locks still firmly in place. He grunted disgustedly at it. _Of all the scrapyard robot caretakers, I get the one with the attitude_. Then he gasped as the bed-chair began to swivel and he caught sight of the room for the first time.

It was pure, blinding white and chrome in every direction. The size of a classroom, it was paneled on one side by a sleek wall of glass, with all other walls of this futuristic cube glowed with blueish-white light. The bed-chair occupied the center of the room, so that Loki got a view of all of it as he swiveled. In one corner, a white porcelain sink and a reflective pane of glass. Opposite that, a white toilet and a closed-off glass box he would later find to be a shower. In the corner diagonal, a series of symmetrical hollows in the white wall, presumably for storage, above a white leather couch. In the last, a delicate, mod-looking white table and chair, with a white wine glass. Finally, he swiveled to a halt, and halfway between him and the storage wall sat a four-foot-tall white cube with two glowing blue circles (rimmed by black apertures) for eyes. It blinked at him self-satisfiedly.

The S.I.G.Y.N. glossed over Loki’s amusement with its usual formal prattle. “You Have Been Healed Under Sedation In Approximately 168 Hours,” it announced proudly. “You Will Find Your Old Attire On The Couch.” With that and a barely audible click! the S.I.G.Y.N. unbolted all the metal locks. Loki fell forward with a fwump, unused to such mobility. As he stood unsteadily and wobbled toward the couch, the metal cuffs quietly retracted into the bed.

The S.I.G.Y.N.’s apertures blinked unnervingly at him and he turned away from it suspiciously. He had a funny feeling that the robot’s point of view was being broadcasted around Asgard. Instead he turned his attention to the perfectly folded shirt and leggings on the couch’s arm. Now that they were in the light, Loki could see they were a vaguely ugly greenish-brown. _Just the right color that won’t show blood,_ he mused darkly. _I wonder if Mother dear did that on purpose._ When he picked up the shirt, the fabric between his thumbs was lumpy from rampant patching and restitching. _The robot’s handiwork_. He pulled it on regardless.

Once he was dressed, it occurred to Loki that his dark clothing made him stand out like an ink blot in the otherwise spotlessly pure room. “Mind games…” he muttered aloud. As he paced, the S.I.G.Y.N. responded innocently. “Sorry, I Didn’t Quite Catch That. Could You Repeat It?” Loki spun on it. “You heard me, you defective remote control. I- said- you- are- playing- mind- games- with- me.” All at once, his anger seemed to evaporate, and he scoffed flippantly. “What a foolish thing to do anyway.”

He collapsed onto the couch, arms crossed and feet up. The lights pulsed with a kind of malevolent cheer and the S.I.G.Y.N.’s ‘eyes’ closed and reopened on the other side of the box. “Ok. Let’s Start In On Your Rehabilitation. Today’s Subject Is David.” With a flick, the S.I.G.Y.N. began projecting onto the opposite wall. A man’s face appeared, smiling nervously, much to Loki’s utter dismay.


	3. Chapter 3: Daniel and Heinrich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you guessed it, the machine is playing Loki videos of the lives of his dead victims. will he be able to hold up in the face of everything he's destroyed?

“ _What’s your full name?_ ” The interviewer offscreen sounded fuzzy and faraway. David strained to hear for a moment, then grinned. “ _David Henry Maximilian_.” He paused, ever smiling. David seemed to be the most cheerful person Loki’d ever seen. He looked like a modern Viking. The man had a scruff of short red hair which matched his short, sculpted red beard. His eyes were a light, speckled blue. He was white, but it was hard to tell, as it looked like he’d been dipped in brown freckles. They covered his strong, squarish face and ran down his arms. A navy T-shirt showed off a body large with muscle.

The screen froze, and a digital-font list appeared next to David’s smile. The S.I.G.Y.N. read it aloud in its tinny, unfeeling voice. “David Henry Maximilian, From Boise, Idaho. Devoted Husband, Son, Brother, And Father. Average In All Testing Areas, But Chosen To Work For S.H.I.E.L.D. On Proof Of Loyalty And Outstanding Citizenry. Patrolman Charged With Guarding The Tesseract. Died May 4, 2012, At Hand Of Loki. Full Honors.” At these words, a muscle twitched in Loki’s jaw. All the same, he scrutinized David Henry Maximilian a little more closely. When he said nothing, the S.I.G.Y.N. unpaused the video.

“ _Why do you want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?_ ” David stretched his legs under the table and spoke again. He had a friendly, mellow baritone that calmed the listener. “ _It’s the right thing to do. After all this country’s done for me, the least I can do is protect it. Well, it and my little trooper back home, and his mama._ ” His beard twitched at one side of his mouth, just like Thor’s did when Loki covered for him at the Feast of Frejya’s Ascension, so long ago…

Loki scoffed and drove the thought from his mind. “Is this supposed to fix my errant ways, cube?” The cube said nothing, but seemed to glow in a glowery way as Loki put his feet up on the couch’s pristine arm. Up on screen, David scratched his neck and smiled a smile oozing with lumberjack charm. Loki sneered. “Feeble.”

…

“What is it now, cube?” The prisoner yawned and stretched, accidentally inhaling some of the tangled black hair in his face. Weeks had passed since the first video of David. Loki and the cube had now fallen into a routine, which went as follows:

1\. Loki wakes up at a time which feels like 7:30 in the morning. He can’t actually tell, of course, because there are no windows and the only light is provided by the cube. He has a sneaking suspicion that the cube wakes him up by turning up the lights whenever it pleases.

2\. He smooths out the white cotton sheets and fluffs up the white cotton pillow. Loki only does this because if he doesn’t, the cube’s metallic arms do, and for Valhalla’s sake he’s not a child. The choice of material interests him, anyway. Like everything else in the room, the bed is not comfortable or uncomfortable. It is just white and cool and there.

3\. He goes into the cubicle that doesn’t lock in the corner and showers. Loki has found out the hard way that if he does not shower, the cube will shower him. His first few showers left him confused and raw-skinned, with a newfound dislike of sharp metal instruments. At any rate, the soap is white, the water is at a constant temperature of slightly-hotter-than-lukewarm degrees, and the bottle of hair thing (he just knows it’s a clear liquid) is clear.

4\. He gets out and grabs a white towel. While he’s been in the shower, the S.I.G.Y.N. has set out his clothes and breakfast. Breakfast is sweet, grainy porridge and dark berries, the only dark thing in the room. Loki remembers it from his childhood. Standard royal family fare, not prison food. He wonders about this.

5\. After dressing and breakfast and teeth-brushing (Loki secretly marvels at the oddly motherly care) the S.I.G.Y.N. shifts the floor under his feet in a quick loop, so he is forced to run to stay stationary. It is not unlike a Midgardian treadmill, except that he has no control over it. They usually run for about an hour and a half, after which Loki collapses on the white couch.

6\. Once Loki is settled, the S.I.G.Y.N.’s projectors flick open and start playing. It is the same thing every day: videos of different, uninteresting victims. They had moved on from David after the first week.

Loki shuffled uninterestedly through the day’s tasks. Even the shower and the running, which usually woke him up, left him yawning. When he finally took up his post on the couch, the S.I.G.Y.N. blinked at him analytically. “You Grow Disinterested?” it intoned. That got a laugh. “I’m not trying to be rude,” snickered Loki, “but honestly, if your plan is to kill me with monotony, you couldn’t be doing any better.” The S.I.G.Y.N.’s shutters narrowed at him, which amused him more. “No need to look so offended. I’m sure you’re doing your very best, you merciless-ly ineffective dispenser of justice.”

The S.I.G.Y.N. just flipped its apertures over to face the wall. “Not Today,” it droned mysteriously. A name flickered and appeared on the blank white wall: Dr. Heinrich Schafer.

Dr. Schafer was a nondescript-looking fellow of about 45. He had a sharp, pointed nose and a hairline that had not so much receded as been driven back by Moses. Even his eyes were sort of dull and sunken in… Something about those pale blue-gray eyes struck Loki. For a split second, he felt violently angry, although he couldn’t say why. At any rate, the S.I.G.Y.N. began to read the digital description next to the doctor as usual.

“Dr. Heinrich Bernard Schafer, From Hamburg, Germany. Chief Nuclear Scientist, Hamburg University. No S.H.I.E.L.D. affiliation. Died May 4, 2012, At Hospital After Being Attacked By Loki. Partial Honors.” The word _partial_ struck Loki. All the previous victims’ descriptions had said full honors. Before he had time to ponder it further, the video cut to a grainy film of a schoolyard. The S.I.G.Y.N. conveniently highlighted young Heinrich in red, then did the same to the date: February 22, 1977. “From An Early Age, Heinrich Showed An Aptitude In Science And Math. He Was A Bookish, Introverted Child With Not Many Friends.”

“I like him already,” interjected Loki, while the S.I.G.Y.N. cut to footage of a science lab. “At Nine Years Old, Heinrich Was Already Inventing Environmentally-Friendly Rat Poison And Designing A New System of Chemical Titration, Which Would Become Standard In German Universities. His Peers And Teachers, However, Did Not Appreciate His Talents.” Onscreen, two older boys in puffy winter coats appeared on either side of Heinrich. “ _Verlierer_!” one taunted, as the other shoved all of Heinrich’s equipment onto the floor. Heinrich jumped back. “ _Was zum Teufel, Idioten_?” he cried. The two boys turned on him as one. The taller of them shouted, “ _Sie lieber nehme das zuruck, Dummkopf!_ ” and the rest was lost in the ensuing scuffle. Loki’s fists clenched as he heard Heinrich yelp and what sounded like cracking ribs.

“Just like humans,” he muttered. “They never see greatness as anything but a competition. Is it not enough to be exemplary, but they must constantly try to be better than each other?” He shifted uncomfortably as the S.I.G.Y.N.’s apertures flipped back to stare at him. “The Irony Is Not Lost On You,” it noted. Loki avoided its digital gaze obstinately. “I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

The S.I.G.Y.N. seemed to recognize this as a losing battle and flipped its apertures around to face the wall once more. The video cut to a more recent Heinrich, giving a speech at some unknown hall, with some gleaming bit of plexiglass in his hand. “ _The school nurse drove me home that night,_ ” he said in accented English. “ _My father was furious. He ranted for hours about how he was going to get those boys expelled. The poor woman was sympathetic, but she told us there was nothing she could do. My father told her to get out_.” Heinrich paused for effect. He was a very compelling speaker, as evidenced by the captivated stares of the people around him. “T _hen he told me something I’ll never forget. It’s made me who I am today… He said, ‘Heinrich, you may not be the strongest or the quickest. But remember that the best revenge is success. One day, you will be so powerful that these boys will seem like flies, and you will have forgotten their names.’ And you know what? He’s right. Today I couldn’t pick my torturers out of the yearbook if you paid me._ ”

The S.I.G.Y.N. paused the video. “That Was A Celebration Of His Promotion To Chief Nuclear Scientist. It Was Thirty Years Since The Lab Incident, And Heinrich Had Worked Improbably Hard To Get Where He Was That Night. He Tested Out Of Secondary School At Nineteen, Then Started As A Lowly Lab Tech In Hamburg. From There, He Forsook Friends, Family, Anything Other Than His Research. He Was Not Present At His Father’s Funeral, A Regret He Expressed On His Deathbed.”

Loki half-raised an eyebrow. “Why tell me all this?” he wondered aloud. “Why a partial honor if all he ever did was work?” The S.I.G.Y.N. zoomed in on Heinrich’s face, blurring it slightly in a way that made it look almost sinister. “Because He Lied.” The video cut to grainy, damaged film of a bedroom at night. A pale, round blob of a man snored under dark sheets. As Loki watched, a hooded figure crept in through the open window and drew a vial and syringe from its pocket. “Heinrich Never Forgot His Bullies. He Tracked Them Throughout Their Lives, Snuck Into Their Homes, And Killed Them.” The figure expertly drew some liquid from the vial, then stuck the needle into the sleeping man’s neck. A few seconds passed where nothing happened, then all of a sudden the sleeper jolted up, choking. The figure crossed its arms and watched as the man twitched, gulped, turned blue, then collapsed. Then the video fizzled out.

Loki stared. Pale, flimsy little Heinrich didn’t look capable of such things. He hid his anger and hate so well under that veneer of the dedicated scientist. “Well… He got away with it… Good for him…” The video abruptly flicked to the gala, where Loki himself lost no time in throwing Dr. Schafer down and ripping out his eye. The S.I.G.Y.N. replayed that arc of Loki’s arm a couple times. “He Did Not Meet The Just End For An Innocent Man. The Balance Of Fate Seems To Have Caught Up With Him After All.” In the background, Heinrich’s screams died away. The projection faded, and the S.I.G.Y.N.’s apertures closed. “Pity,” mused Loki as his lunch rose from the floor. “There was one human I could have respected.”


	4. Chapter 4: Alianna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a new victim and the SIGYN's newfound aggression start to change everything (bonus: spot the Coulson cameo)

“Who do you have for me today, cube?” questioned Loki. “Defenseless human victim number… forty-three, would that be?” The S.I.G.Y.N. looked almost pleased with him, blinking its apertures at his limp form on the couch. Their run had been particularly strenuous that day. “You’ve Been Keeping Track.”

“Yeah, well. Got to do something to pass the time in here. Besides, I’m good with numbers. It’s the honesty in public relations that’s not my forte.” He tucked both hands behind his head, far too smugly for the S.I.G.Y.N.’s liking. The apertures clicked into place, but the S.I.G.Y.N paused. What looked like the output of a pulse monitor flashed onscreen, as well as a list of other vitals. “You Are Trying So Hard To Hide Your Fear… It Is Not As Easy To Lie To A Machine.” Before Loki could respond, the vitals screen blinked away, and a familiar logo popped up.

“Profile #43 Redacted Under The T.A.H.I.T.I. Protocol,” read the S.I.G.Y.N. as the S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle flashed. “All Files Regarding Profile #43 Have Now Been Wiped.” Behind the logo, a blurry photo of a suit-clad, pale man disappeared. The logo vanished, to be replaced with the face of a dark-skinned young woman onscreen.

“Alianna Amador, From Montreal, Canada. Loyal Daughter And Sister. Recruited For Testing With Sister, Akela Amador. Patrolman Charged With Guarding The Tesseract. Died May 4, 2012, At Hand Of Loki. Full Honors.”

Although Alianna’s digital fact list said she was twenty-one when she died, she looked like a teenager. She had her sister’s same dark brown eyes and flat nose, but other than that they looked very different. Alianna had lighter skin and longer hair, which she pulled back like her sister. Unlike her sister, Alianna wore colorful makeup and dressed like a young artist instead of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Also unlike every other S.H.I.E.L.D. ID photo Loki had ever seen, Alianna was smiling, and playfully at that.

The video cut to what looked like the inside of a café. Alianna sat in the corner booth, tapping away at a laptop and bopping her head to some song playing through her giant headphones. Maybe it was the white, plastic glasses with no lenses or the bright yellow sundress, but she was hard to miss. The camera stopped a respectful distance away and offscreen, a man asked, “ _Alianna Amador?_ ”

Alianna jolted up, startled, but then relaxed into the same grin on her ID badge. “ _Music ain’t a crime, officer,_ ” she answered. “ _I can show you the receipt for the laptop if you like._ ” The cameraman fumbled with something, then held out a badge. “ _I’m Agent Griffith with S.H.I.E.L.D. I’m afraid I need to ask you a few questions._ ” At this, the smile dropped from Alianna’s face and she angrily stood and began packing her things. “ _If this is about Akela I got nothin’ to say. And you can go on and leave me alone.”_

Agent Griffith valiantly tried again. “ _Your sister-_ “

“ _She ain’t my sister!_ ”

Griffith sighed. Clearly he’d been expecting this. “ _It’s true that you have different mothers, but you share a father. Your being the product of an extramarital affair-_ “ he quailed briefly under Alianna’s glare- “ _is your business, not mine. Now, please, Miss Amador. You need only cooperate until S.H.I.E.L.D. has the information they need. A van is waiting outside._ ”

Alianna shook her head. “ _You won’t leave me alone until then?_ ” Griffith must have shook his head, because she rolled her eyes and sighed as well. “ _Let’s get it over with._ ”

The scene changed again, this time to the interview room David was in. Alianna sat staring around the room, twiddling her thumbs under the desk. “ _I love what you’ve done to the place,_ ” she scoffed, referring to the bare, concrete room as Griffith reentered. “ _Very government chic_.” Agent Griffith ignored her and sat down across from her. “ _Miss Amador,_ ” he inquired carefully, “ _are you aware of Akela’s affiliations toward S.H.I.E.—_ “ Before he could finish, a loud squawking came from Alianna’s hands. The static eventually resolved itself to a woman's voice, sounding extremely shaken.

“ _How did you hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s frequency?!_ ” cried Agent Griffiths. Alianna shook him off with a “ _Magicians never reveal their secrets. Shhh!”_ and they listened in silence to Akela’s report.

“ _This is Agent Amador concerning Operation Bright Eyes, requesting immediate backup—_ “ A loud explosion cut her off, followed by the grunts and screams of a fight. “ _—make that a Level 4 extraction, ASAP! H.Y.D.R.A. is everywhere, Coulson; they nearly have us surrounded! Mick and Urie are trying to hold the North Wall—_ “ Akela screamed, and the transmission cut for a few seconds. Then a very different voice hissed, “ _Hail H.Y.D.R.A_ ,” and the line went dead.

“ _Akela_?” asked Alianna in a very small voice. Another transmission cut in, and this time Coulson’s voice sounded very numb. “ _In my opinion_ ,” he said slowly, “ _it is safe to assume that all agents assigned on Operation Bright Eyes have been crossed off… Sending a team for cleanup as soon as H.Y.D.R.A.is gone._ ”

Back in the interview room, Alianna slowly turned to Griffith. “ _What does ‘crossed off’ mean?”_ she inquired dangerously. Griffith explained and implored her to remain calm, and then the rest of his words were drowned out in Alianna’s screams as she attacked him.

“She Was Fifteen Years Old When Her Sister Was Killed By H.Y.D.R.A.” calmly stated the S.I.G.Y.N. Loki found himself on the edge of his seat, gripping the couch with his fingernails. “It’s quite…tragic,” he mused. The S.I.G.Y.N. flicked its apertures, and the scene changed once more. “Alianna Expressed Similar Sentiments When S.H.I.E.L.D. Hired Her Four Years Later.”

“ _Why do you want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?_ ” asked the interviewer. Alianna had once again foregone the black tactical gear of an agent for something brighter, in this case a neon pink t-shirt and black and white jeans. She crossed her arms and held her head up when she answered, showing an odd mix of defensiveness and pride. “ _H.Y.D.R.A. killed my sister before I could make things right. If you’re all planning to take ‘em down, that’s good enough for me._ ”

“She got angrier,” noticed Loki. The S.I.G.Y.N. beeped in agreement, then added, “However, She Never Lost A Certain Individuality.” Footage of Alianna’s bunk began playing, where the girl in question was rapidly assembling and disassembling a very complicated gun, to the tune of “Betcha’ a Nickel” by Ella Fitzgerald. A man approached outside, edging closer to the bunk. Alianna must have heard the footsteps, because she looked up and quickly changed the music to “Dream On” by Aerosmith.

“ _Too late, Ali!_ ” crowed the man, leaping around the corner. “ _I heard the grandma music_.” Alianna simply smirked and continued assembling the gun. “ _Careful, Griffith_ ,” she warned. “ _You don’t want this to go off somewhere unfortunate. Nowhere lethal, of course_ ,” she added maliciously, “ _but definitely somewhere painful_.” Agent Griffith edged around the doorway as a precaution. “ _It’s alright, Ali. Everybody goes through phases…_ ” He sauntered off, cackling.

“ _Yeah, phases,_ ” agreed Alianna, just loud enough for Griffith to hear. “ _Music phases, teenager phases, Agent-Hill-is-totally-givin-me-the-eye phases…_ ” Agent Griffith spun in his tracks. “ _Hey! Quit laughing!_ ” he protested. “ _She didn’t say no when I asked her out, did she?_ ” Alianna rolled her eyes as she reached to close her cabin door. “ _You’re right, she was too busy Tasering you…_ ”

“Alianna Scheduled A Visit To Her Father’s In Early May, Two Years Later,” interrupted the S.I.G.Y.N. as Loki chuckled. “It Would Be The First Time They Had Seen Each Other Since Akela’s Funeral.”

“I’d be inclined to see a bit of that,” interjected Loki. “Actually, perhaps not. Might bring too many a fond memory of my own father dear.” The S.I.G.Y.N. said nothing for a moment, projecting the frozen image of Alianna. “You Won’t Have To. Alianna Never Took That Trip. She Was Assigned To Guard Duty At The Last Minute.”

“So…why couldn’t she go after that?”

In answer, the S.I.G.Y.N. played a clip of footage from a vault in S.H.I.E.L.D. Alianna donned her helmet, then ran into some loud fray inside. Seconds later, she was caught in a chokehold. The Loki onscreen reached around her, and with one quick motion snapped her neck.

The Loki in the cell jumped and scrambled backwards. To be faced with something like that so very suddenly, without any warning, was unsettling to say the least. “Oh…” he mumbled. “Yeah…that.”

The S.I.G.Y.N.’s video faded away, but the robot kept droning on. “She Died Barely An Adult, In A Time When She Was About To Try To Make Peace With Her Family. She Had Been Through So Much, From Finding Out Her Real Parentage To Becoming Estranged From Her Family To Losing Her Sister. Before She Could Finally Start To Recover, She Was Gone. She Would Never Have The Chance.”

“W-well, you know what to s-say…” Loki wasn’t stretched out along the couch anymore. He was bunched up at the end furthest from the S.I.G.Y.N., arms crossed, staring at the wall. “S-she met up with a monster… r-right? This is the part where you tell me I’m a…?”

“No.” The S.I.G.Y.N. had never sounded colder than then. “Much Worse.” Its apertures clicked back to face Loki, who was startled into staring straight into the empty blue lights. “She Met Up With A Man Who, When Given The Choice Between Right And Wrong, Chose Murder.” Loki shuffled back to the corner of the couch. It looked like those accusing, bright blue lights were getting closer.

Suddenly, the S.I.G.Y.N. started projecting into his face. Once he got accustomed to the blinding light and looked up at the wall behind him, he could see the video: him snapping Alianna’s neck over and over and over. “You Took Alianna’s Life…” Desperately, he tried to hold his hands in front of his face… “Made It So She Could Never Return To Her Loved Ones…” The crack! And her final cry seemed to be getting louder… “…Only Because She Was In The Way.” Abruptly, the video stopped. Loki and Alianna faded and the real Loki shuddered in the corner. The S.I.G.Y.N.’s blue headlights glared, his immovable judge.

“You Do Not Get The Privilege Of The Name ‘Monster’,” it intoned coldly. “Monsters Have No Good Nature, So They Cannot Be Held Responsible. You Are Not A Monster.” No matter how he curled up, Loki stood out against the blinding whiteness of everything in the room. He couldn’t hide from the S.I.G.Y.N. “You Are A Man, Who Had Every Opportunity To Be A Good Man. You Chose Elsewise. You Are Responsible, And You Are Not Excused.” The S.I.G.Y.N. was practically in his lap.

Suddenly, it backed away. The headlights dimmed, and the S.I.G.Y.N. returned to its placid state. “We Are Finished For Today.” Thoroughly shaken up, Loki sat up and stared at it for a moment. It did not look back at him. Silence fell for a little while, then Loki slowly stood. “I think…” he croaked, “…I think I’ll take a shower.” He went into the back cubicle with his clothes on, didn’t turn the water on, and stayed inside for a very, very long time.


	5. Chapter 5: Cacophony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki hears one voice in particular which tears at his collected act the most

“It Is Time To Wake Up.” The S.I.G.Y.N. prodded unfeelingly at Loki’s huddled form. Loki simply turned over and threw the white sheet over his head. ““Leave me alone,” he muttered in a small voice. He barely had slept the night before, waking up every hour to a new nightmare starring the dying screams of Paul, or Geoff, or Jamal, or Sheila.

In answer, the S.I.G.Y.N.’s thin metal arms lifted him, sheet and all, and placed him on the floor. “You Must Wake Up,” it repeated, sliding him into the shower. When Loki still did nothing, the shower turned itself on and inched up the temperature to lobster-boiling proportions. Finally, he threw himself through the door, sizzling with steam burns and annoyance. The S.I.G.Y.N. toweled him off, roughly, before he could crumple into a ball again. He opened his mouth to protest that he was being smothered, but shut it again, considering the merits of that. 

Breakfast was another ordeal. Loki slouched unmoving on the floor, so the S.I.G.Y.N. was forced to feed him by holding his mouth open and making him swallow. It wasn’t that Loki was fighting the robot, exactly, it was more that he wasn’t helping it in any way. No matter what was done to him, he just stared haggardly forward and let his limbs go limp. Even when the floor started moving for his morning run, he did nothing. He allowed himself to be pushed against the wall, eventually falling on his face. Eventually, the S.I.G.Y.N. gave up and placed him in his usual spot on the couch.

“Why Will You Not Participate?” queried the S.I.G.Y.N. All that it could hear in response was Loki’s mumbling and ragged breathing. It lifted him by his hair and blankly stated, ““Repeat.”Loki snarled as he felt the clawlike metal pull his head back. “Why would I go along with your s- sick little routine? I tire of it, and you. Leave me be.”

The S.I.G.Y.N. seemed to find this amusing. It emitted a series of discordant beeps, as some sort of laughter. “You Really Think You Have A Choice.” The metal claw dropped Loki’s hair, and the robot turned away. “Remember Why You Are Here, Prisoner 0000007727. This Is The Unique Purpose.”

With that, the metal arms shot out and grabbed his wrists. Loki’s arms were pinioned to the wall, far above his head, forcing him into a slight crouch. Sly metal cuffs clicked around his wrists, the robot dropped his arms, and the next film began to play.

“Hong Hanh Nguyen, Aged 63…”

“Vexatious, useless, piece of scrap,” he muttered. “I will crush you one day.”

“...From Los Angeles, California. Born In Saigon…”

“I’ll melt you down and feed your cogs to my enemies.”

“...Beloved Mother And Grandmother. Escaped Turbulent Homeland On S.H.I.E.L.D. Convoy, 1966…”

Loki resorted to his usual glare, as it was apparent the S.I.G.Y.N. would push on at all costs. Onscreen, Hong Hanh Nguyen sat on a worn-looking footstool, carefully painting a mountain landscape. Three fat little children gamboled outside on the sun-swept grass, and she took occasional glances out the screen door at them. Loki rolled his eyes, but said nothing. 

“...Hired As Translator, Trained In Weapons Engineering…”

Inside the tan house, a timer dinged. Hong Hanh set down her paintbrush with a secretive smile on her toothless gums. She hobbled out of the frame and came shuffling carefully back a minute later, bogged down with an enormous tray of some delicious-looking baked things. She called out to the children in Vietnamese, and they raced for the door, ruthless little balls of energy that careened around her, bouncing blurs. Loki blinked, and by that time all three had snatched a steaming baked thing off the tray and were stationary, chewing contentedly. Hong Hanh chuckled, a quiet sound full of mirth and wisdom, and set the tray on her footstool. A single strand of long gray hair fell askew as she straightened to smooth the hair of the closest child.

“...At Stark Industries. First Level Engineer, Tesseract Project…”

It happened in a flash, barely there in time for Loki to catch it. An image of the Allmother reflected where Hong Hanh had been, smoothing the hair of a toddler that was unmistakably Loki. Just as quickly, it disappeared, and Hong Hanh was laughing at something the child had gummed over the sweet. Loki flinched, unable to discern whether the reflection was the S.I.G.Y.N.’s doing or his mind playing tricks on him.

“...Died May 4, 2012, At Hand Of Loki. Full Honors.”  

“Turn that off. Right now.” The harsh edge to Loki’s voice surprised him. He swallowed hard, fighting for control. 

At this, Hong Hanh’s S.H.I.E.L.D. profile faded and the robot turned to face him. “Why?” it asked simply, its cold blue apertures focusing on the drops dripping from Loki’s chin. “#66 Is No Different From The Previous Profiles.”

“You’re making it up. She’s not real. None of them are,” he accused. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me, tricking me… It’s not real.” 

“I Do Not Understand. All Profiles Were ‘Real’,” countered the S.I.G.Y.N. “I Will Explain Differently.” With a slight click and some whirring, the projector screen switched on. Loki flinched and twisted away as it was filled with the face of his mother.

“ _My son._ ” Frigga’s voice was singularly sad, but resigned to the task at hand. “ _If you are seeing this, it means that you have finally begun to understand the gravity of your crimes. These next few weeks will be hard for you_.” 

“I said turn that off!” Loki barked. He shook at the handcuffs, jaw set to a firm line as he avoided his mother’s gaze. 

“ _I am putting you through this because you need to be better. You have to understand what it means to have taken the lives of so many. Once you understand, you are one step closer to joining the family again_.” 

Loki kicked the back of the sofa in frustration. He wiggled and struggled against the handcuffs, kicking at the couch. He was fine. He’d be fine, if the damned robot didn’t make his damned mother so damned loud. He could crush this pathetic little machine. He could get out of this ridiculous, sterilized, glowing room and punish them all for this petty morality torture. If only she weren’t so LOUD!

“ _Was it easier, Loki? When they were all just numbers, when you could sweep them away and forget whenever you liked?_ ” The All-Mother swallowed, but it wasn’t enough to stop her voice from wavering a little. “ _Can you dismiss them as easily now that you know how complex, rich and varied they were? That their blood is on your hands, and it doesn’t come off?”_

He wasn’t crying. He was fine. He was FINE. 

“ _I raised no monster, son. Why you tried to become one is beyond me._ ”

Loki roared in frustration and concentrated on shaking furiously at the shackles, throwing all his strength and the last vestiges of his magic into them. They were strong, and his wrists stung in fighting them, but the cracking in their foundations told him he was stronger.  

“ _You could have been so much more than a murderer, Loki._ ”

“TURN IT OFFFFFFF!” With that, Loki’s struggling finally paid off, and the handcuffs shattered as he fell to the ground, still shouting.

Loki wasn’t aware of much other than a roaring sort of grief, which seemed to guide him without his knowledge. He was vaguely aware of the smooth porcelain of the breakfast bowl in his hand, then a loud crash as it smashed against the S.I.G.Y.N.’s right aperture. His throat felt raw and empty, and somewhere, someone was shouting. “Stop! Damn you! Stop!” It didn’t sound like him. It sounded foreign.

His hands smashed into the S.I.G.Y.N., over and over and over again. The picture on the wall distorted itself and fizzled out, his mother disappearing in a flurry of static. The shards of plastic and fiberglass tore his skin, but Loki barely noticed. “Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!”

...

The S.I.G.Y.N. was a gently smoking pile of scrap. The pristine white room was stained with greasy bits and cogs and droplets of blood. A shudder of apprehension flew through Loki as his punches slowed and the feeling started to return to his fingers. The high was wearing off. 

…

What seemed like an hour later, Loki really saw the pile of bloodstained metal for the first time. The numbness and detachment that coupled with his old anguish vanished like dust in a breeze. Everything came crashing back. For the first time, he felt his broken fingers, the soreness of his throat, and the terrible, terrible sensation of being completely, in every sense, very much alone. He screamed. It was victorious and angry and bitter and excited and broken all at once, a cacophony within itself. Mostly, it was useless, as he was the only soul to witness it. Shaking slightly, he crumpled to a ball on top of the wreckage of the machine, muttering nonsense.

The sound of the scream reverberated around the spattered room, as red and black and greasy as the walls it bounced on. Yet still, Loki thought to himself, it didn’t cover how loud she was. His mother’s voice was still playing, over and over and over on some hidden speakers, just getting louder and louder until it rang off the walls of the room, of his brain, like the scream, just red and black and disappointed and- He had to find the speaker, had to turn it off- Louder and louder and monster and murderer and blood, too much blood, it was too red, too loud, too louder- Have to turn it off, can’t turn it off- and he was going through the scrap, going through the trash, had to smash it, smash it all, and it was just getting louder- It won’t turn off- monster, murderer, he was tearing up the sofa and the bedsheets, looking for the speaker- It has to turn off, have to turn it off- he was smearing his hands all over the walls, looking for the speaker, leaving red, sticky trails- It’s too LOUD- blood, so much blood, just making it louder, there’s no speaker, there never was a speaker, it’s all just numbers, easier when it’s numbers, he was running at the walls, trying to smash the walls, that just made them louder… 

…

Loki staggered blindly at the barrier to outside the cell for the seventh time, hair swinging over his eyes. Suddenly, his feet twisted over some of the debris on the floor, and he landed face first on the remains of the S.I.G.Y.N. Before he could get up again, a cold needle poked into his neck from behind. Loki blacked out immediately. The metal arm retreated, and three more popped out from the cell wall to pick up the bleeding, limp body of a man who’d finally found silence.


	6. Chapter 6: Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise or two

Loki woke to erroneous beeping. Blearily, he squinted into the sudden light of the SIGYN’s ice-blue apertures, peering down at him. _Judgement from on high_. He giggled groundlessly into the empty space left by the robotic beeps.

The next sensation he noticed was that of metallic cold. The same metal restraints locked down on his naked wrists, ankles, chest, hips -- he stopped giggling and writhed in fear. There’s a certain animal revulsion to waking up afraid and powerless, and Loki hated it with the same fervor as he hated the crisscross of icy Jotun patterns which had marred his arms and his life so long ago.

To his surprise, the restraints snapped open. He slid to the floor off the metal surgeon’s table, relishing the pleasant crack in his neck and newly healed wrists. The SIGYN’s claws scooped him to his feet almost tenderly. Staring around the room, he noted its once-again pristine condition; no trace was left of the bloody handprints or black scrap remnants of their last encounter.

“How?” he wondered aloud incredulously.

In answer, the SIGYN closed its apertures. A circle feet wide around them rippled, shifting white squares forming a tile wave pressing closer and closer to its center, until the wave crested into a blocky mountain and fell from the ceiling to the floor with a whump! Half-horrified, Loki stared as the rolling lump on the floor formed itself back into the familiar cube. The SIGYN’s apertures reappeared facing him and blinked for good measure.

“I Am The Sentient Integrated Genetically-modified Yearly-updated Nanobot.” As ever, the SIGYN was matter-of-fact. “My Interface Adapts To Environments As Needed. I Span Cell #27 To Equip All Your Needs.”

Loki snorted at that. _As if this machine is for anything but my detention, let alone ‘needs’_. “And I suppose you’re about to tell me what I need?”

“To Suffer.” Though nothing of personality shone behind those apertures, the SIGYN managed to look dangerously righteous. “Tyrants Must Suffer, As The Oppressed Do. Only When The Lion Bleeds Bitten Will It Fear Biting The Lamb.” It pronounced this so casually, as if it were nothing more than weather; at the same time, it went on attempting to dress Loki and pushing him around the cell in their routine.

“And let me guess, you bite lions,” Loki scoffed. He slapped the pushing metal arms away as they ushered him to breakfast, though he couldn’t deny the dull buzz of hunger in his brain. “What would the All-Mighty Allmother have to say about that, machine?”

Flatly, uninterestedly, the SIGYN answered. “The Allmother Is Dead.”

There was a horrible shattering noise. For a moment, Loki could not be sure if it was his head, his gut, or the crushed bowl now staining his fingers with blood and berries. He stared, bug-eyed, at nothing -- suddenly, the fabric of reality was both tearing and crumbling around this inescapable truth, and anything was possible. With the blank grace of an automaton, he rose, paced, breathed. The debris of the porridge and bowl trailed from his fingers. Without hesitation, the SIGYN’s metal hands reached down to sweep the mess away.

Loki’s hand shot out unseeingly and yanked the arms down further. “Was it…” he croaked, swallowing to no effect, “how… what was… how did she…”

The SIGYN seemed to accept Loki’s unflinching grip without hesitation. “The Dark Elves Attacked The Palace. She Was Stabbed Defending It.”

Loki nodded, realizing he didn’t actually care how it happened. Stabbed By A Dark Elf, Stabbed In the Dark, By the Dark, Defending, Attacking, it all led to the same result. Impulsively, he thought of Alianna, crumpling to the floor. He vaguely registered the robot taking his thudding pulse, relentlessly, even as he gripped it.

“Are You Thinking Of Them?” it asked simply. “Can You Hear Your Victims? Can You Hear Your Mother’s Scorn?”

He wasn’t, and he couldn’t. One thought did register to him, however, and it was that his final conversation with his mother had been chosen not by her or him but by the bot. So Loki blankly played along.

“I hear all their voices. All of them. But the loudest is hers… Was it real? Did she actually say that to me?” He cracked his voice at the end, almost convincing himself of the sincerity.

The SIGYN’s metallic skeleton fingers crept up his forearm, in a soothing way. “Does It Matter?”

The tidal wave Loki had frozen abruptly came crashing down in drowning swathes. With a roar, he ripped the metal arms viciously, watching them detach from the ceiling. The SIGYN’s panicked beeps faltered under his guttural screams; he swatted the flurry of new arms away like wet paper. “Does it _matter_?! DOES IT MATTER?! YOU MECHANISM, YOU RUSTY, TWISTED MORALIZER! CAN I EVER REPLACE WHAT YOU TOOK FROM ME, IN THE NAME OF FIXING ME LIKE A BROKEN MACHINE? IN WHAT SENSE WOULD IT NOT MATTER??!”

The SIGYN did not speak, but beeped furiously and sent even more arms flying around him in an attempt to subdue him. Loki smacked at them at the pace they came, looking increasingly wild, until with one accurate sweep of his body the arms all flew to the room’s corners. “TELLLLLL MEEEEEEE!” he roared, louder than cracks in the earth.

For a moment, silence reigned as the two faced one another. Panting, Loki glanced at his tingling wrists. Tiny ice blue crystals formed delicate geometric patterns over his forearms, and for once, Loki did not shy from them. They were neither a curse nor a benediction, just a fact. His breathing evened. Clarity washed over him like an infinitely deeper, calmer sea.

With deadly calm, he strode to the room’s center and opened his palms to the heavens. The SIGYN’s beeping seemed an irrelevance of the past. Now, all his focus dictated the persistent, destabilizing cracks of ice, ice creeping from his fingertips through the floor and the ceiling, through the walls above, turning stones and pushing dirt into a complicated geometric lattice. His eyes fluttered shut as he worked. He swept easily by the barriers to magic -- they were not meant to face anything like this.

The SIGYN, in terror, sent wave after wave of white pulses up the walls, vibrating the space around him. “How?” it beeped discordantly. “All Necessary Countermeasures Were Put In Place To Secure This Facility! No Magic Is Possible! How Can You Break The Security Barriers?” It seemed to strain under the pressure of holding the walls.

Loki’s fists had curled around the final icy tendril his mind had formed. At the SIGYN’s question, he opened his eyes and freely threw out his arms.

The ice around them shattered. Unstable rock crumbled into the room from every direction, crushing everything in its path. Rivers of stones tossed and turned around Loki, writhing like the coils of a giant snake, twisting and turning and steamrolling every atom of matter which dared to oppose them. The SIGYN screeched a tone of terrible finality. Its circuits and tiles rolled in the rocky rivers, completely torn asunder.

Minutes went by. The rivers slowed from a roar to a grind to a death-toned silence. In a five-foot patch of completely untouched space, Loki slumped and panted, half allowing himself a smirk. Picking his way off the rock pile, he stretched and smiled at the gaping hole in the prison, even further at the forested mountains of the outside world. He blinked around at the debris and sneered. “Does it matter?”

If Loki had bothered to look back as he climbed out to freedom, he would have seen that it both did and didn’t matter. Faintly, feebly, waiting for him to disappear, a thin trail of gleaming white tile poured from the rubble cracks and slithered out of sight.


End file.
